


Confrontation

by sarahgene12



Category: Broadway RPF, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Broadway, M/M, RPF, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahgene12/pseuds/sarahgene12
Summary: Ramin Karimloo was ripped. Will Swenson noticed. It was awfully hard not to notice something like that when you're dying in somebody's arms.





	

Ramin paused outside the door, holding his breath. He could hear Will inside, talking, probably on the phone. He would have turned and run, could have, but for the way his entire body wanted him to knock on this particular door.   
It had started out innocently enough. Will had sent him that stupid tweet and it blew up. It was a joke, the kind of weird humor the guy was known for. He had only mentioned his workout that day and a couple hours later, the little blue bird had notified him of Will’s reply: “I want you so bad.” So what?  
A week later, Will had sent a text. The same kind of thing, a joke; it had said: “Saw your interview. Fucking sexy, man.” Ramin had even laughed about it right then, in the coffee shop. He’d sent a “haha thanks” in return.   
So it really wasn’t unusual for Will to ask him to guest star at his show. Cool, right? He knew the guy was nervous as hell to go on by himself, and Ramin was happy to be his familiar face. They’d do something funny, it’d be a smash.   
“Whatever we’re doing, you’re going to be shirtless.”  
That night, everything was cool. Will got through the guitar-playing alright, and seemed to be in the swing of things by the time he was supposed to bring that night’s guest onstage.   
It stopped being funny when Ramin started in on the Confrontation. Their eyes were on one another from the beginning, and maybe both of them were worried about messing up the words. But from the first line, Ramin got this gleam in his eye, and smirked, like he knew. Will almost missed his first cue.   
Oh and Christ, his muscles clenched when it got to the most intense part, towards the end, and Will caught himself wanting to reach out and press a hand across his friend’s stomach. Probably felt like a stack of bricks. Jesus.   
All of that was fine, the crowd was eating it up, and they did their bit, and the transition into Little Fall of Rain got plenty of laughs. But then Ramin looked at him again, grinning, and he had to get into his head to actually touch him.   
It wasn’t planned, they hadn’t rehearsed it this way, but he almost couldn’t help it; Will had reached out and squeezed Ramin’s chest and yeah, it felt good, impressive. It turned him on a little, to feel the muscles moving under his hand. What he hadn’t been counting on was Ramin’s reaction.   
He had done it, gone for it, taking them both by surprise. And for a split second, Ramin’s lips had parted and jesus his eyes had actually fluttered closed, just for a moment. He really liked that. Will did it again, and the guy bit his lip. It was funny, right? He was going to give him so much shit about it tomorrow.   
The crowd was going absolutely nuts for this, so he’d taken it even further and made Ramin put his arms around his waist. Because he was supposed to be Eponine—and, just maybe, because he liked how heavy those arms felt on his hips.   
He could turn his head and Ramin was right there, so close, their mouths barely an inch apart, and in his head he imagined himself closing that gap, twisting his body just enough to get at those stupid lips and suck on them until they were bright red and raw. It’d be funny.   
He almost would have done it, too, but the part of the song came up where he was supposed to pretend to die, so he jerked and hitched in Ramin’s arms like a good little dying girl, and oh jesus Ramin wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore; he pressed against Will’s back, breathing faster than the song warranted and—oh god. Oh god, he was getting hard from this, Will could feel it.   
The song was practically over, so why the hell not? Still bucking through his death throes, Will pressed back, pushing his ass right into Ramin’s crotch. This was crazy, stupid but he was funny, right? Inappropriate sometimes, but that was part of the fun. Neither of them were taking it seriously.   
At the same moment Will felt Ramin gasp in his ear, he fell strategically to the floor, feigning death. The crowd loved it.   
He was laying on his back, sweating, blinding by the hot pink lights in his eyes. Ramin stood over at him, chest heaving, the front of his trousers a bit less roomy than they’d been before. Then he was kneeling and before either of them could think, he pressed his lips to Will’s and oh fuck.   
His lips were softer than Will could ever have imagined; he pressed himself into the kiss, opening his mouth a little, reveling in the heat from Ramin’s body, the precious seconds they had before Ramin broke away, gasping a little right into Will’s mouth.   
The audience was screaming, they loved it, and just as soon as he had appeared, Ramin left the stage and Will had to find a way to go on with the show. There was an hour left at least, and he couldn’t spend it wishing he’d held Ramin down just a little longer. 

*******

“Yeah?”  
Ramin took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. Will was still on the phone, tucking the receiver into his shoulder to see who it was—he froze for a second when he saw Ramin.   
A moment passed, a moment in which Will noticed Ramin’s clenched fists, the line of sweat beaded on his brow, and—now he stared, forgetting the person on the other end of the line for the one right in front of him.   
Will licked his dry lips without really realizing he was doing it, staring unabashedly at the bulge in Ramin’s trousers. Before returning to his phone conversation, he couldn’t help but notice the expression on his friend’s face: he looked smug.  
“No, I think it went well, yeah. They didn’t kick me out, or anything. Let me sing the whole set, so.” Why couldn’t he breathe?  
Ramin came around and stood behind the chair, dragging his fingers across Will’s shoulders. He lay his palms flat, rubbing small circles high on his back. Their eyes met in the mirror.   
“What? Yeah, sorry, I’m still here.”   
Ramin’s hands slid forward to Will’s chest, keeping the same rhythm, and he leaned forward and kissed the back of Will’s neck, softly, grinning against his skin as he felt a shiver tickle his spine.   
“No, Cassie came last night, it was—” Will’s words to whomever it was were lost in a quiet moan; his cheeks flushed pink. Ramin, knowing full well what he was doing, had started leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses along the outside of Will’s neck. At the same time, he slid his hand down over Will’s belly, to his belt, and tugged on it.   
Chuckling quietly, wickedly, Ramin moved in front of Will, and laid his hands on Will’s thighs.   
“S-sorry about that, no, I was just—uh, Ramin was my—he—we sang together tonight. Yeah.”   
Ramin slid one hand all the way up Will’s thigh, over to the buckle of his belt; he worked it free with one hand, slipping the button loose while pressing a finger to his lips: ssshh.   
Gasping, but trying desperately to keep his composure for as long as possible (or at least as long whoever it was was on the phone), Will bit down hard on his lip, watching Ramin lean forward and tug the zipper of his jeans down—with his teeth.  
“W-what? No, I’m fine, I just—t-tired, you know how it is. But you’re right, the second ha— ahh! No! Sorry, um, just hold on a second, I gotta—”  
Ramin had blown a cool breath on bare skin, at the very spot where the line of hair below Will’s navel disappeared under his waistband. Will nearly dropped the phone in his hurry, leaping out of the chair and moving to stand in front of the makeup table, in front of the mirror.   
Ramin followed, no longer grinning, his eyes dark. He stood quietly behind Will, watching him. He made sure Will had his eyes on him as he reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, slowly exposing the muscles Will had barely dared to touch up on stage.   
Will swallowed. “I, uh, do you mind if I call you back? Y-yeah, sorry, I’ve gotta—um. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Yeah. Bye.” He dropped the phone on the counter.   
He watched Ramin open the last button, watched him tug the shirt from his shoulders, and let it fall on the floor.   
“You like that, Will?” Ramin growled, his voice low. Will nodded, staring particularly at the muscles in Ramin’s chest, how they rippled when he moved. He comes up right behind him, effectively pinning him to the table, and now Will is openly gasping, he doesn’t care. He can feel how hard Ramin is, pressed in close; his pushes himself backwards, grinding against the front of Ramin’s jeans.   
“Oh fuck you…” he hisses; the dirty word comes as a surprise to Will, sounding so filthy on those lips.   
“Oh yeah? Is that what you want? You want to fuck me?” Will teases. And for a second, Ramin is still.   
In another instant, the hands that were so skillfully taking him apart pull him away from the table and he’s being thrown onto the couch; the springs crack and complain as Ramin pounces, his mouth on Will’s in an instant, and hungry.  
He moves fast, sucking a low moan from Will’s mouth, his hands already working the button and zipper of his own pants free. He rolls his hips again, and without really realizing it, Will spreads his legs, feeling Ramin’s hand on him and tilting his head back, suddenly feeling dizzy.  
His hands find Ramin’s shoulders, and he grips them tight, feeling the muscles clench under his fingers; Ramin curses under his breath and their mouths crash together again, and Ramin’s hand on him moves faster, crushed between them.   
“Oh shit, oh shit, Ramin! Jesus!” His hands slip down Ramin’s back, tracing every curve of muscle, squeezing hard every time Ramin rocks upwards.  
The first time he reaches for Ramin’s chest, he discovers something. Just like when they’d been on stage, he squeezes one of Ramin’s pecs, and the result is gorgeous.   
A low growl leaves Ramin’s throat, and his eyes flutter closed.   
Oh.   
He does it again, and Ramin moans; he seizes his moment and shoves him backwards, and Ramin lets him. Will pushes Ramin’s shirt up over his chest, and lowers his head. His tongue darts out and lightly flicks one nipple.   
Now Ramin doesn’t even try to be quiet; he moans again, louder, and his free hand tangles itself in Will’s hair, holding his head exactly where he wants it.   
Will does it again, and presses his tongue flat against the hard mound of muscle. He purses his lips and sucks on the little brown nub, grazing it gently with his teeth. Ramin curses again, loudly, and his hips buck upwards, almost in Will’s face. He’s pushed his trousers and his briefs down off of his hips, and really, what else is Will expected to do?   
He hesitates only a moment, before scooting backwards and lowering his head again. But Ramin stops him, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling back, hard. Will moans at the sudden pain, and allows himself to be thrown onto his back again. After this is done, Ramin doesn’t wait. He hooks his fingers into the band of Will’s pants and tugs them down, struggling for a moment until they’re down all the way.  
He lowers himself on top of Will again, kissing him hard, pulling Will’s lower lips between his teeth.  
Ramin watches Will, and raises a hand to his lips, wetting two fingers. He lowers the hand again but pauses, meeting Will’s eyes and asking the question without words. In answer, Will raises his head again; he presses his lips to Ramin’s chest, taking one of his nipples between his teeth and biting down, gently.   
“Fuck!” It feels like an act of revenge; Ramin is undone, his arms give way more from shock than fatigue, and he barely waits a second before positioning himself above Will. He kisses him again, panting, barely able to speak as Will grabs ahold of his arms, squeezing the muscles as hard as he can.   
“Yeah? Like that? You like that? Ooh, Ramin, you’re so str—” His teasing is cut short as Ramin thrusts inside, and he’s nearly thrown headlong off the couch.   
“Shut up, Will, shut—” He moans, struck breathless, and for nearly a minute neither of them can speak. Ramin’s hips roll, and with each thrust Will’s hands squeeze tighter, and he can feel Ramin shiver every time. He likes this.   
“You’re so strong, ooh, look at those muscles, those arms! Oh god, so tight!” He can’t believe the words are coming from his own mouth, but with every thrust he feels himself nearing the edge, and there is just so much of Ramin, so much of him everywhere, the weight of him steals the breath from Will’s chest.   
There’s a moment where Will’s fingers find the back of Ramin’s thighs, threading softly over the muscles there, kneading the hard curves and smooth skin of his ass; he digs his nails in just to see, and Ramin bucks wildly, with a sound in his throat like he’s being choked.   
He takes Will in hand again and it’s really too much, the weight and the rough palm of Ramin’ s hand are too much, and with a last, desperate cry Will comes, spilling himself across his own stomach and Ramin’s rippling abs. It’s smeared between them, sticky as Ramin’s thrusts grow more desperate, harder and more intense. He sits nearly straight up and rides Will, rides him into the couch, which is groaning under their weight; his hand, slick with come, tangles itself in Will’s hair and pulls, baring his throat to Ramin’s mouth.   
It is like this, with Will spread and bruised and marked under him, that Ramin finally comes. His back arches, and he cries out loud enough that Will has a brief thought of the neighbors before Ramin falls forward again, slick with sweat and completely spent.   
Will can barely breathe, realizing really for the first time how heavy Ramin is; he laughs quietly, gasping a little. Ramin raises himself up on his forearms, looking directly into Will’s eyes and frowning a little.   
And oh god, those stupid fucking lips look so sweet, so pink—almost red now from their efforts—and he can’t help himself. Will wraps a hand around the back of Ramin’s head and pulls their mouths together; it surprises them both when Ramin’s cock twitches in response.   
“What, you’re not done yet?” cracks Will, too breathless to laugh.   
Ramin lowers himself down on top of him again, and tucks his face against Will’s neck. He kisses him softly, just under his ear. “Shut up, Will.”


End file.
